


how to be

by rinkinkirs



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:01:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20126758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinkinkirs/pseuds/rinkinkirs
Summary: He sips at Philip's beer and scrolls through unanswered texts, half convinced Philip will disappear and end up dead in a bedroom somewhere. (AU where the original Trevor and Philip don't die and end up saving each other a little bit.)





	how to be

**Author's Note:**

> i guess i have a lot of feelings about unresolved trauma?
> 
> **cautionary notes:** canon-typical references to sexual abuse, substance abuse, and a whole bunch of angst. it doesn't go into a huge amount of detail, but it's still pretty heavy, and definitely beyond my comfort zone as a writer.
> 
> i wrote most of this almost a year ago and it's barely edited, so there's a fair chance details are a bit off. i'm also not a native english speaker, so i stuck with the spelling i know best.

It's humiliating.

Not losing the fight – he doesn't remember losing the fight – but the way people stare at him when he staggers down the hall, like he's fucking pitiful, and on some level it's infuriating, but he's too tired and aching to really feel it.

Needing Kyle's help to find the right classroom is just the cherry on top.

Kyle's his best friend for a reason – he doesn't fuss or ask questions, even when he looks like he wants to. He's the best bro a guy could have, and, well... they understand each other, and they don't have to talk about how Trevor does oxy sometimes or how Kyle drinks too much.

* * *

Rene has a hand on his thigh – a hand with intent – and he's filled with nausea.

"Don't," he says, shoves her hand away. "I literally get dizzy if I get a boner right now."

"Aww," Rene says, squeezing his knee. "I'm sorry, babe."

He gets dizzy a lot. Mostly if he runs too hard. Or has to focus on something. Or if there's loud noises. Or if he gets too excited.

If he tries to do fucking anything, basically.

* * *

He tries to enter the locker room and ends up throwing up in the bathroom while Kyle hovers by the sink.

"It's the concussion," he says.

Kyle looks down. "Yeah." He looks twitchy. "I'm thinking about quitting football."

Philip wipes his chin. "Yeah?" He spits, tries to rinse his mouth out.

"Yeah."

* * *

He misses when having a bad day meant his parents didn’t get him that cool new toy.

Instead, having a bad day means skipping football practice to throw up, pretending he can’t hear dad talking shit over dinner, punching Kyle when he tries to talk about the throwing up, and texting his girlfriend:

_we should break up_

* * *

He takes off with a backpack and his mom's pills.

* * *

He fumbles with the tube and sticks one end in his mouth to make a knot, like he’s seen on TV. His eyes won't focus right, so he can't tell where his fingers need to go.

"Kid, you don't want to do that."

He glances up at the guy leaning against the doorway, beer barely hanging on to the tips of his fingers, and keeps at it.

"Seriously, dude," blondie says. "One fucking time, and you might be hooked."

Trevor lets the end of the tube slip out of his mouth to glare at him. "You just want it for yourself."

"Oh, I'm flying high already," Philip says, just short of flippant. "Trying to quit, but here I am." His grin seems wildly out of place.

He can see it, now that he's looking – pupils so wide and dark they swallow the iris. Trevor runs the tube through his fingers and squeezes.

Philip staggers over and slides down the wall to settle next to him. "The last person I saw shoot up," he says, bumping their knees together, "is in a coma. He's my best friend and I'm not allowed to visit. The only reason we're both alive is I had a seizure and a neighbour called in a noise complaint."

Trevor sighs, and his shoulders slump. "Sorry?"

Philip snorts. "It's cool, got only myself to blame, right?"

Trevor looks at him, all out of words.

"Stick to weed, kid," Philip says. "All the other shit’s not worth it. And people usually figure it out too late. Hey, you still with me?" He pokes Trevor in he thigh. Trevor startles and jerks away. "Anyway. I'm going to take that off your hands and make sure it goes to another miserable fuck who didn't know any better."

Trevor hands it over without protest, in exchange for Philip's beer.

Philip shoots him a lazy salute. "I'll be back."

He sips at Philip's beer and scrolls through unanswered texts, half convinced Philip will disappear and end up dead in a bedroom somewhere. It's probably dumb to still have his phone on him, but it's not like anyone will be looking too hard; it's not his first disappearing act. (Rene and Kyle might, he reminds himself, but tries not to think of it, because he's a fucking idiot who has to destroy everyone’s lives with his own.)

A blunt pops up into his field of vision, and the struggle to focus makes his brain swim.

"I got you this," Philip says. "And..." He holds up a wad of cash.

"You came back," Trevor says, can’t hide how surprised he is.

Philip grins and reaches out to stroke Trevor's cheek with the back of two fingers. "How could I leave this face, come on."

Trevor freezes.

"No? My bad, man."

"I'm not... I mean..."

"Dude, it's cool," Philip says, squints at him as he sits. "I'm not expecting anything, you're just, y'know." He gestures at Trevor's face. "Kinda hot."

Trevor blinks at him. "Oh."

"Didn't mean to make you uncomf—"

Trevor kisses him.

Philip blinks. "Uh."

Trevor leans in and kisses him again, slow enough he feels Philip's tongue trace his lips. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest that it feels like a punch to the head, and there's a pool of dread in his stomach.

He liked it.

He liked kissing Philip.

"Shit." He jumps up, barely thinks to grab his jacket. "_Shit._ I gotta.. I gotta go."

He thinks Philip tries to follow, but Philip can't walk in a straight line so he's hardly going to run after him, and he fumbles for his phone.

Kyle answers on the third ring.

_"What the fuck, Trevor, where the fuck have you--?"_

"Can you pick me up?" His voice is shaking.

Kyle's voice is softer when he answers. _"Of course, man, where are you?"_

He feels tears well up and does his best to choke down a sob. "I—I don't know, I..." He looks around. He finds a familiar street name.

It feels like his eyes don't belong to him, like everything he sees is being seen by someone else.

Kyle grabs his shoulders with strong hands and looks like he wants to shake him.

"Did you take something?" he asks, voice tight and angry, but his eyes look scared.

"I met a guy," Trevor says. "He—I didn't—I don't know what to do."

"Did he give you something? Hey. _Hey,_ What did you take?"

"No, he took it away." Trevor wants to comfort him but the words get lost somewhere on the way to a mouth that doesn't feel like his own. "He—he said I shouldn't do it. So I didn't. And he touched me and I—"

Kyle just looks more freaked out and Trevor grabs his elbow.

"I kissed him," he says, and that's what makes the tears fall out. "I kissed him and _I liked it_."

Kyle doesn't say anything, just keeps a tight grip on his shoulders like he might disappear, and then they're in his car and driving and then Rene is there with her big eyes.

"I couldn't take him home like this," Kyle is saying. His voice sounds weird. "I can't tell if he's on something or just fucked up."

"I'm sorry," Trevor says. "I'm sorry."

"Shut _up_," Kyle says, and a distant part of Trevor knows he's trying to protect him, but he doesn't deserve to be protected.

"What if I'm just broken now?" Trevor says. "What if—"

Kyle's hand cups his mouth. "Rene," he says, "give us a few minutes."

She looks scared – like she wants to touch him, like she's afraid to – but backs out of the room. "I'll go get some water, yeah?" She doesn't wait for an answer.

Trevor continues his thought the second Kyle lets go. "What if he made me this way? I can't be like that, I just—I can't—"

Kyle grabs his neck and looks into his eyes, so close he can barely see his face. "Do you want to fuck me up?"

Trevor rears back. "No! I'd never—"

"Then he didn't make you this way," Kyle says. His eyes flicker to Trevor's lips and up again. "So you kissed some dude that kept you safe at a party. Was he cool?"

Trevor licks his lips nervously. "I... Yeah."

"Then you're good," Kyle says. "You're all good, Trevor."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, dude. I know you. You're good."

Trevor finally relaxes into the pile of pillows. They smell faintly like Rene's hair.

* * *

He wakes up alone in Rene's room in one giant tired pile of embarrassment, sun already high in the sky. There's a pair of sweatpants on the chair by the window, so he gets dressed and grudgingly moves down the stairs.

"I called your mom to tell her you're back," Rene says, smiling briefly before her eyes fall to her mug. "She said to call when you woke up, but I'm thinking breakfast and coffee first."

"I don't deserve you," Trevor says.

Rene throws a balled-up napkin at him and laughs, and Trevor lets her pretend she's not tearing up. They're good at that.

* * *

He thinks about it when he finds a receipt tucked in with the cash Philip gave him, phone number scribbled on top of groceries (toilet paper and cigarettes) and signed _Philip in da house_ in neat letters. Imagines what could have happened with Philip. What he could have done. 

* * *

Imaginary Trevor reaches out, and Philip grabs his hands. "What are you doing?" 

"Please," Imaginary Trevor says. "I just-- I need to know it can be different." 

"Different from what, bad sex with your girl?" Imaginary Philip's not stupid, but he doesn’t push. He knows that's not it. "Look, I'm not saying we can't, okay, just... kissing is good for a start, yeah?" 

Trevor stares at him; licks his lips, as if it'll make his mouth any less dry. 

"Come on." Philip scoots up the bed to give him room. "You're on top, you decide how far this goes, I'm good with whatever." 

* * *

That’s how he rewrites himself, over and over, except this time he’s starting to believe it: He decides.

**Author's Note:**

> trevor doesn't call but accidentally becomes some kind of counsellor who talks about his near-venture into the drug world with mythical philip, until some dude in the audience bursts into laughter and goes 'hey trevor in da house' and it's philip and they have coffee and it's good


End file.
